MOLLY HALTER Horse sense, quiet prayer bring order out of chaos

Early in the 1800s, John and Harriet McAfee Lesh, my great-great-grandparents, heard of cheap land west of Pennsylvania being offered for sale by the U.S. government.
Fought over by the Indians, French and the English since the late 1600s, this vast area had been assigned to the United States after the American Revolution. Organized as the Northwest Territory in 1787, it included land north of the Ohio river, extending from the western Pennsylvania border to the Mississippi River. In 1800, the Northwest Territory was divided into what eventually became Wisconsin, Michigan, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio and part of Minnesota.
Stories were told of hundreds of settlers buying large tracts of Northwest Territory land inexpensively, who then cleared the trees and farmed the fertile soil for comfortable economic gain. The Leshes, hearing those talks of prosperity, were eager to go as well. But there was risk as well as opportunity. Could they make the long journey safely? Did they have enough money to buy and then clear a large land tract? What about the everyday needs of food, clothing and shelter for their growing family?
Leaning on prayer
After long discussions and much prayer together, they sold their Pennsylvania farm and packed up their belongings. Heading west toward what today is Bluffton, Ind., they set out in a covered wagon pulled by a team of fine horses.
In Pennsylvania, John Lesh was known for having a talent with horses. People would give him horses no one else could work with or that were mean from being treated badly. John's skill was in working with these tough-to-handle steeds.
By taking the time to understand them, John's labor always paid off. The team of horses pulling the Lesh covered wagon had been rough, even dangerous. With John's patient training, however, these horses were now a gentle but hard-working team.
One fearful night
One night while the family slept in the wagon after a long day's travel to Ohio, John was awakened by the horses. Hearing them snort and stamp, John became suspicious. Quietly, he got up for his gun while Harriet and the children continued to sleep. He peeked out of the wagon bonnet unnoticed. To his horror, he saw some men trying to steal the horses, which had already been unhitched.
John's alarm rose. Stealing horses was a simple thing to do: Untie them and they'll gladly trot off to find sweet grass somewhere. Worse yet, losing the horses would strand the family, dashing or seriously delaying their dreams of homesteading. He was thankful their sounds woke him, but what could he do? Should he use his gun? He didn't want to risk harming his family. The men had guns, too.
Crouched inside the wagon, John was gripped by fear and worry. What would he do if the horses galloped off with the men? With a look at his sleeping family, he prayed: "God, please help us."
Long minutes passed while the ruckus continued. Peeking outside again, however, John's eyes widened in disbelief. His untied horses were resisting the bandits. Backing away from them, the horses would not run off. Finally, the men gave up in frustration and left. John sat back in the wagon and breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, dear God," he whispered. How grateful he felt. His God-given talent with horses had served him in a way he never dreamed possible; it seemed his team wasn't going to let anyone else touch it.
God's providence
The next morning during breakfast John related the encounter to his amazed family. Relieved and thankful to God for being kept safe from danger, the family was quiet for a time. Presently, John said it was time to head out, and everyone made ready. A new resolve stirred in their hearts. Other challenges lay before them, but with a deeper trust in God's providence, they forged ahead, pulled by the team of fine horses.
How did I learn of this story of prayer and courage? One of the couple's children, Mathilda, was sleeping in the wagon that night when the horse thieves came. She and the rest of her family learned from her dad of the scare and of God's providential care the following morning while they ate breakfast around the campfire. Years later, as a grandmother, she told of this event to my mother, who told it to me.
XMolly Halter is a sacred storyteller. Contact her at christian@cboss.com.